


Of Popcorn and Break Rooms

by BroadwayBaggins



Series: Popcorn Universe [2]
Category: Mercy Street (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Holiday Traditions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-09-07 11:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8799406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroadwayBaggins/pseuds/BroadwayBaggins
Summary: Mary attempts to do a good deed. Jed helps her.





	

By the time Jed finds her at the end of his shift, Mary is surrounded by Styrofoam bowls of popcorn and clear fishing line, has several angry pricks and bruises on her fingertips, and is cursing under her breath in German.

He warily looks around the break room, wondering if there is anything in here that would account for her errant behavior. A five-foot-tall Christmas tree, half decorated, stands in the corner, but provides no explanation. He looks back at her and clears his throat. “Should I come back later, when you aren’t…otherwise occupied?”

Mary sighs and tosses a piece of fishing line away from her as if disgusted. “It’s no use. This is impossible.”

“And what might _this_ be?”

She looks at him as if he were an idiot. “It’s a popcorn garland.”

“A what now?”

Mary sighs. “A popcorn garland. It’s a very common Christmas tree decoration. Or at least it used to be. Didn’t you get Emma’s email? We’re all supposed to contribute something to our staff Christmas tree. Like a potluck, only for decorations.”

“I did get the email. I brought the lights.”

Mary rolls her eyes. “It was supposed to be personal, Jed.”

“I know. I _personally_ went down to the hardware store and bought them. Even sprung for the twinkly kind.”

Mary gives another sigh, looking down at her work with despair. “It was a stupid idea. I thought it would take ten minutes, tops. Now my shift starts in half an hour and I’ve wasted more popcorn than I’ve strung–and I look like I got in a fight with a sewing machine. And lost.” 

She holds up her hands, and Jed clicks his tongue in sympathy at the bruises and dried blood. She’ll have to wash them several times before she can go on shift. “What’s the needle for anyway?” he asks, looking at her work. The piece of garland she tossed away has maybe ten pieces of popcorn strung on it, plus a lone cranberry.

“You use it to poke a hole into the popcorn and then get it on the string,” Mary explains. “It’s harder than it appears. I keep either stabbing myself or doing it wrong and breaking the popcorn pieces.”

“So why do it?” Jed asks, sitting down next to her. He holds up his hands before she can protest, continuing on. “I don’t mean to dismiss you. I just mean why keep doing it if it’s clearly making you miserable? I’m sure there’s tons of other decorations you can make. Maybe a paper chain instead. Emma will understand.”

But Mary shakes her head. “It’s really not for me,” she explains. “It’s for Samuel.”

“I don’t follow.”

Another little sigh. “He mentioned that he always used to have popcorn on the tree growing up. I thought having it on ours might make him happy. He’s been so down lately, since Aurelia left.”

“On your recommendation.”

Mary glares at him. “I never told Aurelia to go. All I did was say I had a few connections and the neo-natal unit at Mass Gen could really use her skills, if she wanted a change of scenery.”

“And so she packed up and left for Boston.”

“For an amazing opportunity at a world-class hospital, and a chance to get her son away from that abusive asshole ex of hers–”

“I get it, Mary. You did a good thing. And you’re doing a good thing now.” He smiled. “Sometimes I wish you’d do just one normal, bad thing, like forget to top off the parking meter or not tip the barista, so I could know for sure you’re a real person instead of some kind of saint or something.”

Mary looks down, but not before he catches her smile. “I’m not a saint. I just wanted to do something nice for Samuel.”

“Well, maybe I can help you.”

“What?”

“Your shift starts in half an hour. Mine just ended.”

“So you should go home and sleep.”

“I’ll be fine. How can I help?”

“Well, I just put a new bag of–” Mary’s words are cut off by the shriek of the microwave, and she rushes across the room to retrieve the latest bag of popcorn. Almost immediately after she opens the door, the room is filled with the acrid scent of burnt popcorn, and she recoils. “Damn it! I hate this thing!”

“It says here that you should avoid microwave popcorn, if possible,” Jed says mildly, reading her printed-out instructions.

“Yeah, you try finding a popcorn popper in a hospital,” Mary grumbles, tossing the burnt bag at him. Jed catches it and opens it one-handed, sifting through to find any usable kernels. He fishes one out and tosses it at her gently, and she ducks. He grins, tossing another expertly into his mouth.

“I think we can make this work. If there’s one thing I know, Phinney, it’s that you and I make a pretty great team.”


End file.
